


like a flower bends toward the sun

by starrkeys



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Flowers, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Slice of Life, as for major character death, doesn't really count i don't think, it's just a harry styles fic featuring someone else to think he's cool, literally a sunflower, louis can talk to flowers, sunflower harry, this isn't really a 1d fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 08:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5961418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrkeys/pseuds/starrkeys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis can talk to flowers. There’s a particularly tall sunflower that tells really bad jokes. They become something like friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a flower bends toward the sun

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this, like, a year ago when I was still kinda into larry. My friend told me that it was too ridiculous to have harry be a literal sunflower and I was like “yeah you’re probably right.” I also know nothing about flowers. however, the idea still was in my head so I decided why the hell not. and so, here it is. I hope you enjoy. xxx

The roses were petty gossipers. Lilies preened at their own beauty. Pansies often expressed concern when other flowers appeared to not be getting enough water. Lupines were content to sway in the breeze and didn’t say much of anything at all. Pink poppies resented the red variety and their fame.

All of the flowers in the greenhouses were amusing in their own way. Each species was different and every single member of a species contained a bit of variety.

The differences in personality relied heavily on how genetically diverse a species was. Annuals that were all carbon copies of each other were boring, sickly things with not an original thought among them. It was the basic, popular varieties that had the most personality –tulips, daisies, sunflowers.

Louis had always loved flowers. There was something about them that just seemed right. They were natural, true, and entirely elegant. When he was little, he would spend hours tending the flowerbeds, stirring up the earth and watering the blooms that needed it. The aroma of the flowers, the mustiness of the earth, the feeling of dirt under his fingernails. He didn’t feel like himself unless he was surrounded by plant life. School was just a place where he had to wait and daydream until he could be back outside where he belonged.

He once spent two weeks sleeping in the nearby strawberry fields, breathing in the sweetness of the berries and walking barefoot among the rows of plants.

Louis hadn’t always been able to speak to the flowers. He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d gained the ability. At some point, after spending so much time with them, he had just became aware of some of the things they were saying. Flowers didn’t speak like humans did. It involved the swaying of their heads, the rustling of their leaves, the whistling sounds of wind. Rough understanding made way for fluency, and though some of their words and ways of communicating were impossible for him to replicate, he could understand almost all of what they were saying. And, as it turned out, flowers were a lot smarter than most humans believed and could understand everything that they said in their presence.

Working in the greenhouses was just common sense for someone who loved the flora so much. Being with people simply felt strange to Louis, as if he couldn’t quite be himself in their presence. But with the flowers, it was different. He could be just exactly himself with them and none of the flowers ever looked at him strangely for speaking to them. In fact, they were quite happy to talk to him, for he was the only human who could understand.

There was one sunflower in particular that constantly made Louis smile. It was the tallest of the sunflowers in the far corner of Greenhouse 3. It had the longest petals of all the sunflowers and its mood was never anything but happy.

“Hiiii…” it would exclaim as Louis went near it, and it would wave a bit in the breeze.

Louis tried to resist talking to it. Casual conversations with flowers was all right and good but engaging in real conversation and becoming friends with a flower still felt like it was somehow crossing a line. But there was something in the way the flower would say “It’s a great day today!” no matter what the weather was like that made him rather fond of the flower.

“Do you want to hear a joke?” the flower asked.

Louis checked the earth in a nearby six pack of asters. “Yeah, sure, why not?” he said to the sunflower. “Hmm, needs watering….”

The asters straightened under his gaze, glad for the attention. “Hmph, it’s about time someone noticed.”

“But I was going to tell my joke!” the sunflower protested, sounding like a petulant child.

“I’m listening,” Louis said, finding a watering can under the table of flowers and filling it in a nearby tap. The only other human being in the greenhouse was near the door, at the complete opposite end of the building. Louis wasn’t worried about being overheard.

“Your joke isn’t even funny!” one of the asters said. A nearby black-eyed Susan agreed.

“It is too,” the sunflower said.

Louis poured a little water on each individual aster, watching as they perked up even more. They gave a little stretch and sighed contentedly as if waking up from a long nap.

The black-eyed Susans across the aisle tittered at the little spat taking place in front of them.

“Let me hear it,” Louis said, gently removing dead leaves from the plants in front of him. It was shocking how just a little bit of attention could improve both a flower’s mood and confidence. He liked to see the flowers happy. As the flowers were able to tell him what they needed, it made him uniquely suited to fulfilling their needs. They liked attention and to be listened to just as much as humans.

“Knock, knock,” the sunflower said, barely able to keep its excitement under control.

“Who’s there?” Louis replied.

“Sunflowers.”

“Sunflowers who?”

“Son, flowers have feelings too and you shouldn’t brutally murder them to give to your girlfriend,” the flower said in its best ‘dad voice.’ Then it proceeded to laugh at its own joke, its stalk bending in the breeze.

If the asters had eyes, they would have rolled them.

Louis thought it was endearing. He even laughed a bit.

“Oh, don’t encourage him,” another sunflower said from down the aisle.

“It was rather funny though,” Louis said, if only to avoid hurting the tall sunflower’s feelings.

“Thank you,” the sunflower said. “I have a lot of time to make up jokes. It’s not like I’m going anywhere, after all. I’m Sunflower, by the way.”

“Sunflower? Your name is Sunflower? Isn’t that your species?” Louis asked incredulously.

The flower bobbed happily. “Yes. All sunflowers are called Sunflower. It’s a perfectly elegant name.”

“But how do you tell each other apart?”

“We manage quite well. If it’s so ridiculous, what would you rather have me be called?” the flower asked.

Louis continued watering, gently prodding the earth around their stalks to check if they needed it or not. An aster was muttering about how wonderful it was to have a human pay attention to something other than itself.

“Well, I don’t know. Are you a boy or a girl sunflower?” Louis asked.

The tall sunflower made a rustling sound that was something like laughter. “Oh, we don’t have anything as silly as gender. We’re all just flowers.”

“I see. Well… you could be a Cynthia or a Lisa. Or I dunno, Charlie. Harry…? Peter. Is there anything you want to be called?” Louis suggested, casting through his mind wildly for names that might suit the flower.

“Harry is nice.”

“Well then. Harry it is. It’s nice to meet you Harry. I’m Louis,” Louis said, pausing in his work to address the sunflower head on.

“What did the Harry say to the Louis?” Harry asked.

“I dunno. What?”

“Hi.” Then the flower burst into a boisterous laugh that closely resembled leaves in a strong wind.

“That one was pretty bad. Was that even a joke?” Louis said, smiling widely anyway. There was something about the flower’s demeanor that made it impossible not to laugh at even the worst puns and jokes. Maybe it was how it had such obvious, sincere delight in them.

“I usually have plenty of time to think of them. I don’t have anything else to do, you know,” Harry the sunflower said.

“So that’s what you do all day? You just make up new jokes?” Louis asked. He had never really thought about the daily life of a flower. He supposed it must be fairly boring, seeing as they couldn’t go anywhere or do anything and some of them were incapable of original thought or creativity.

“Among other things,” Harry said. “I think that human wants your attention.”

Louis looked over his shoulder to where the customer from the other end of the greenhouse was no longer at the other end of the greenhouse and indeed, gesturing for his attention. “I’ll be right with you,” Louis said, holding up the watering can as proof that he was actually doing something. He watered one last tray of black-eyed Susans before setting the watering can back under the table. “I’ll come see you later,” he said to Harry under his breath.

“I look forward to it,” the flower responded.

Louis then walked away from his corner and toward the customer.

“What’s so special about you?” one of the other sunflowers said to Harry, quietly and in a manner that showed how the flower hadn’t intended for Lou to hear. “All you do is tell bad jokes.”

“I’m charming,” Harry responded.

Then Louis lost track of what the flowers were saying as he helped the middle-aged man find the flowers he was looking for.

*

“Do you know the meaning of life?” Louis asked Harry one day as he did the weeding in the back corner of Greenhouse 3.

Harry did the sunflower equivalent of chortling. “Why would I know the meaning of life?”

“I don’t know,” Louis said. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to ask when you have the ability of cross-species communication?”

“How would I know? I’ve never left the greenhouse.”

“Hmmm,” Lou said thoughtfully, falling back on his heels. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, probably smearing dirt all over his face in the process. “Well, if you do happen to figure out what it is, you have to tell me.”

Harry’s yellow petals rippled in the slight breeze. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“Thanks.”

*

“Hey Lou?”

“Yeah?” Louis wasn’t actually working. It was after-hours and the greenhouses were closed to the public. He was just there because he wanted to be. He was lazing in the aisle on his back, staring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t a meaningful use of his time by any means but he really had nothing better to do. He enjoyed the flowers’ company more than he was willing to admit out loud.

“Why’d the sunflower want to be beheaded?” Harry asked.

“Why?” Louis asked, used to the tall blossom’s penchant for jokes.

“So that he could see the world,” came the response.

Louis pushed himself up on one elbow. “Are you feeling sad?”

“I guess a bit,” the flower said. It seemed a bit droopier than usual. “What’s it like outside?”

Louis thought about the best way to respond. He’d never considered that the flowers had feelings before. He’d always thought they were carefree. He supposed that came from human assumptions and not his actual interactions with plant life. He wasn’t familiar enough with the feelings of flowers to know how to respond. Should he take the time to describe the world in painstaking detail? Or should he just play it down so the flower didn’t feel bad about missing out?

“A ladybug was telling me about the stars. Are they really like a million tiny lights?” Harry continued.

“Yeah. Yeah they are. You’d love them,” Lou answered. “They’re almost as amazing to look at as you are.”

“I wish I could see the whole world. You’re so lucky.”

Louis sat up and shrugged, hugging his knees to his chest. He stared up at the sunflower’s head, feeling tiny in comparison. “I guess I’d never really thought about it. I like it here the best, to be honest. The rest of the world is so loud and… dirty.”

The flower sighed and seemed to droop even lower. “All I get to do is think about the outside.”

“How about you ask me whatever you want and I’ll answer all of your questions? Does that sound good to you, Harry?” Louis asked, resting his chin on his knees. He wanted to cheer up the usually sunny flower.

The flower’s head bobbed slowly in a nod. “What does ice cream taste like?”

Louis smiled at Harry’s first choice of question. “It tastes sweet and cold and creamy… although I guess you have no idea what that’s like. Hmmm….” He was already stumped on the sunflower’s first question. He couldn’t think of the words to describe such a sensation as eating ice cream to a plant. “You know when it gets really hot in the greenhouse? It’s relief from that and it tastes kind of like love feels.”

“It must be so wonderful being human.”

“Did you know that humans think it would be wonderful to be a flower?” Louis asked.

“Really? You’re funny.”

“Yeah, I know. Humans are ridiculous, aren’t they? They have no idea how lucky they are. So what’s your next question?”

“I’ve got a question,” one of the nearby pansies interjected.

“What’s that?” Louis asked the flower.

“What’s a bicycle?”

So Louis then struggled to try to describe a bike to a being without legs or any knowledge of movement.

Soon he had dozens of questions yelled at him from the flowers’ tiny voices and he did his best to answer them all. The flora raptly listened to everything he said. It was hours before Louis made his excuses and went home to sleep.

*

As soon as Louis arrived at Greenhouse 3, Harry the sunflower waved him over. “Do you need some water?” he asked in lieu of greeting.

“No, I’m alright. I was actually doing some thinking about the question you asked me. About the meaning of life?” the flower drawled out in its slow voice.

“Oh?”

“I think it has something to do with making the best of what you have and being happy,” the flower said. “Although, I think it might be different for everyone.”

“That’s definitely as good an answer as any,” Louis said. “You’re smart.”

The flower practically glowed under the praise.

*

Louis was sick with the flu for four days. He found himself thinking about Harry the sunflower. He missed its humour and sincerity. He didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that he’d grown attached to a plant that would be dead come winter.

*

When Louis arrived back at work after his bout with the flu, he headed straight to Greenhouse 3. He had to say hello to Harry and all of the other flowers he’d gotten to know over the weeks. He had to explain why he had been absent for so long. He just had to talk.

He arrived at the back corner to find the entire bed of sunflowers simply gone, turned over fresh earth in their place.

Louis first instinct was that he’d somehow stumbled into Greenhouse 2 or 1 or maybe he was simply dreaming. But the tables full of asters and black-eyes Susans and pansies were all where they had always been.

“What happened to the sunflowers?” he asked wildly to any flower that was willing to respond to him.

“They’re dead,” the asters said as one.

“What?” Louis couldn’t seem to think properly. The information wasn’t sinking in and all he could think about was how he’d looked up a bunch of flower jokes on the Internet to share with Harry.

“When you were gone,” the aster with the largest blossoms said, “some small humans were running and pushing each other. One fell into the sunflowers. Crushed them all.”

“Harry’s dead?”

“They’re all dead.”

“But…” Louis protested.

“We’re all going to die one day,” said the aster. To a human’s ears it would seem callous but to the flowers it all seemed perfectly reasonable not to grieve. They didn’t look at life as something so intrinsically precious. It was just a passing phase.

“Listen,” a black-eyed Susan said. “Would you mind giving me a water? I’m getting a bit thirsty.”

Louis did as he was asked on autopilot. If only he hadn’t gotten sick. If only he’d been here, he could’ve prevented the death of all the innocent flowers. Then he berated himself for feeling guilty. They were just flowers. They were going to die in a few weeks anyway. Their lifespan was short. They weren’t human. He shouldn’t’ve been grieving them like they were.

He was so stupid. How did he let himself get so attached? Why did he give one of them a name?

By the end of his shift, Louis was beginning to come to terms with the untimely end to his friend. There was only one thing he could really do. Make the best of what he had and try to be happy.

It’s what Harry would’ve done anyway.


End file.
